


The Toasts of Venice

by Nefertiti_22002



Series: Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell sequels [1]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Anal sex Fluff Magical Discoveries Indulgence in Italian sweets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5312981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to my Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell, a tale of love and adjusting to life in the Darkness. (This one is shorter!)</p><p>A short time after the meeting between Strange and Arabella, the two magicians move Hurtfew Abbey to Venice, where they are greeted as celebrities and heroes. They socialise more than Mr Norrell would prefer, make love, and ponder where to travel next. A momentous magical discovery is made and a bakery-and-sweets shop visited. Mr Strange gives Mr Norrell a present.</p><p>Many thanks to Predatrix for the beta job and advice on the Regency period!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Darkness Returns to Venice

On April 8, 1817, the morning after Mr Strange’s conversation with his wife in Padua, he began implementing Mr Norrell’s and his plans for their upcoming transfer to Venice. 

Mr Strange had essentially taken over Mr Lascelles’ duties in terms of devising strategies to give out news concerning the Darkness and to create a positive public attitude towards it. After all, they wished to be able to visit cities like Venice and be welcomed rather than reviled. Mr Strange had to admit that the thunderstorm that had heralded their arrival in Edinburgh had been a bit overly dramatic and too suggestive of threats rather than friendliness. On the whole, however, Mr Norrell found his ideas sound and was in most matters content to bow to his greater understanding of the whims of society.

After two hours of drafting and revising, Mr Strange had an impressively-worded letter ready for Mr Norrell’s perusal, and they sat side by side at the library’s big central table to discuss it. Variants of it could then be devised, and it would be sent to the mayor and other officials of Venice, as well as the leading local clergy and the most prominent Austrian officials now supervising the running of the city. The text announced that the two magicians would be moving Hurtfew Abbey and its Pillar of Darkness to that city in one week, for an indefinite stay. Seeking to dispel all worries that the people of Venice might have at the propect of the Pillar’s reappearance, the two magicians’ letters treated the visit as a triumphal celebratory return in the wake of the defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte. The letters offered assurances that there was no possibility whatsoever of danger to the citizens or damage to the buildings of Venice. As they pointed out, when the Pillar had first appeared there, it had been frightening to the local inhabitants, but it had eventually disappeared, leaving Venice no worse for its presence.

The letter took care to point out the recent visit they had paid to Edinburgh only two weeks earlier, emphasizing that the event had drawn considerable pleasurable excitement and press attention. The two had purchased many copies of the local newspapers, which had printed extensive coverage of the Darkness and of the numerous social events that had taken place involving the two magicians. Now they included clippings in the letters of the most prominent officials.

The letter went on to extend Mr Norrell and Mr Strange’s invitation for the officials and their wives (except in the case of the clergy, of course) to visit them in the Darkness on the morning of their arrival. They included instructions as to how to enter the grounds of Hurtfew Abbey through the archway, which they would place just opposite the main entrance to the Basilica San Marco. Once inside the Darkness, the guests would receive a tour of a very fine English country home and its famous library—the library that Mr Norrell and Mr Strange had used in devising the magic that played such a large part in helping to free Italy and its neighbouring countries from the horrors of the recent wars. They would then be treated to a splendid candlelight luncheon in celebration of that defeat. The luncheon would conclude with some feats of magic.

The letter concluded by stating that the inhabitants of the Darkness were not coming to Venice on any particular magical mission. Rather, they were interested in sightseeing, socializing and doing some shopping. In short, the two magicians made it clear that they would bring considerable money into the city and that their visit would create a festive occasion for the high society of the city.

Mr Norrell read over the letter carefully. He sighed. “I suppose we really must offer this luncheon and no doubt accept the invitations that will follow, though you know I would much prefer quiet meals taken with you. I realise, however, that such things are necessary, just as they were in London. I must say, your text seems well suited to reassuring and intriguing the most important citizens concerning our visit. Really, I have nothing to suggest.”

He leaned over, kissed Mr Strange on the cheek, kissed him a second time, since once seemed so inadequate, and got up to return to his reading.

+++++++++++++++++++

A short time later Lucas entered the library and went to the small desk in the corner, formerly used by Childermass. Not wishing to disturb Mr Norrell, who was sitting near the opposite end of the library, Mr Strange went over to join Lucas.

“Lucas, I need you to make copies of this letter. Here is a list of the recipients, each accompanied by slightly different phrasing to be inserted in the blank spaces.”

“Certainly, Mr Strange.” He read over the text of the letter and looked up with a smile. “All this sounds very exciting. I cannot wait until we are in Venice. Padua has been lovely, and the Giotto paintings, sir, in the Cappella degli Scrovegni. Amazing! But Venice has so many more things to see.”

“Yes, and you will not entirely have to wait. If we are to host a large group for luncheon on the very day of our arrival, we shall need to start preparations now. That is, Mr Norrell and I are assuming that we shall receive the same kind of welcome there that we did in Edinburgh, with people being exceedingly curious to see the Darkness and to socialize with us.”

“With these sorts of entertainments and reassurances, I have no doubt that they will, sir.”

“One thing we need is to places orders with restaurants for the dishes for the luncheon. We can hardly expect Mrs Greeley to cook for such a large group! She can merely supervise. It being a spring luncheon, we shall order all cold meats and dishes, as well as desserts. The Hurtfew cellar could easily furnish the drink, of course, at least the port and claret and so on, but we think it best to order some lighter wines and in general to buy much of what we need locally. That sort of thing will generate good will toward us faster than anything else, I would wager. Oh, and we would need to take on some additional servants on the days of the big entertainments, most likely employees of the establishments providing the meal. You should inquire about that, presumably with some help from the city officials we are contacting with this letter. 

“All these preliminary arrangements will be your responsibility. We would like for you to take the small carriage and travel into Venice to make all the arrangements. It is far enough away that you should plan to stay two nights.”

“The carriage, sir? Will I be able to use it in the city, what with all the canals?”

“There are some streets there, but certainly not in all the areas where you would need to go. You would be better off staying at an inn on the mainland and traveling about the centre of the city on foot and by boat. Take Davey with you, if you like. I’m sure we can manage for such a short time without the two of you. It occurs to me that you might also do some socialising yourselves, eating and drinking in some of the taverns and talking about your life here in the Darkness with us. You could emphasize how safe and agreeable it is.”

“I shall not have to exaggerate at all about that, sir. So far, you and Mr Norrell have made our situation everything you promised it would be.”

++++++++++++++++++

The plans went ahead as anticipated. Replies to every single letter were received during the remainder of the week in Padua, with nearly all of the invitees accepting. Venetian officials assured the two magicians that they were very welcome in the city for as long as they cared to stay. A concert and fireworks entertainment would be arranged to honour them. Announcements would be placed in the local newspapers and notices hung up in every piazza, assuring the populace that the reappearance of the Darkness in Venice was a happy rather than a threatening event. Much was made of Mr Norrell and Mr Strange’s important contributions to the war against Napoleon, and they were hailed as visiting heroes.

On April 15, when the pair moved Hurtfew and the Darkness to rest in the Piazza San Marco, there was initially consternation among some citizens, particularly those who were illiterate and had not read or heard about the reassurances by city officials. The general excitement and happiness at the occurrence, however, soon spread, and most citizens felt more curiosity than fear.

The visit of the various dignitaries to Hurtfew on the first day was a great success. Mr Strange gave each guest a lantern and conducted the tour of the house and grounds, while Mr Norrell remained at his desk. Apart from sparing him the ordeal of answering innumerable questions, Mr Strange thought that the guests would enjoy seeing the great magician at work in his by-now famous library. He did not take them far from the house, feeling that it would not make a good impression if he were suddenly transported back to Mr Norrell’s side by the magical tether than kept them together.

Mr Norrell managed to appear gracious when the group entered the library, though he was in fact rather agitated at having so many people jostling about near his beautiful bookshelves and craning their heads to read some of the titles. He kept a close eye on them, wanting to make sure that they obeyed Mr Strange’s dictum that they should on no account touch anything. Mr Strange had convinced Mr Norrell ahead of time that the best way to assure the safety of his books and furnishings would be to occupy their guests with a brief display of magic. 

Accordingly, after the group had surveyed the room and praised its beauty, Mr Norrell rose and offered to do the simple bit of magic that always seemed inordinately to please everyone who witnessed it: showing images of distant people reflected on the surface of the water in his silver basin. It had worked a decade before when he demonstrated it in Parliament, and it worked in this case. For some reason that he could never fathom, rather than requesting views of important figures of some stature, people invariably called out requests for glimpses of their own uninteresting friends and relatives. He sighed but conjured up a few such people, to the vocal astonishment and gratification of the tour members. Mr Strange finally extricated him by telling the guests that such work was tiring and it was time to move to the dining room for lunch.

Mr Norrell almost enjoyed the sumptuous lunch that followed. For one thing, he had discovered to his surprise that he liked Italian cuisine, unfamiliar though it was. Mr Strange had persuaded him to try some restaurant meals during their stay in Padua. Pasta was pleasingly bland and agreed with him very well if the right sauce were applied to it. One restaurant served them the new and fashionable sauces made with tomatoes, which he had found most delectable. So much lighter than the heavy, elaborate sauces often offered to him at lavish banquets in London. He had been particularly delighted by little things called ravioli, filled with pumpkin and topped only with brown butter. Meats such as veal and chicken were often cooked in deliciously simple ways, merely sautéd with butter or lemon or mushrooms or wine or combinations of these.  
Italian cuisine could be heavy as well, however, and it often used shellfish and some dreadful little anchovy things, all of which he could not abide. 

And the chocolate! It was delicious. Indeed, Mrs Greeley had informed him that much of the chocolate that he had enjoyed so much in York and later London had been imported from Venice and Florence. His opinion of Italy had risen considerably.

The fact that the luncheon was a cold meal made Mr Norrell’s life easier. By a judicious selection of the meats, mild local cheeses, and some tasty roasted vegetables, he managed not to eat too much, and the simplicity of the food agreed with him very well.

The occasion was also made reasonably pleasant because Mr Strange acted as host and gave the inevitable speech after the meal. Mr Norrell was thus spared contending with anyone apart from his immediate neighbours at the table. Mr Strange had taken care that those neighbours were some of the Austrian officials who helped run the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia, which had been formed upon the defeat of Napoleon.

Mr Norrell spoke tolerably good German, and since these gentlemen had nothing but praise for his role in that defeat, he enjoyed the conversation more than he had expected. It turned out they had all participated in various actions that benefited in one way or another from the magical efforts of Mr Norrell and Mr Strange. Mr Norrell was quite interested in hearing eyewitness accounts of ways in which their magic had worked during the war. He asked questions and listened attentively. After they had finished lauding the two magicians’ achievements, they told anecdotes of their other experiences during the war, which, though not particularly interesting, were better than chat about fashion and tales of scandalous affairs.

At intervals he also had the opportunity to simply look at Mr Strange, sitting at the opposite end of the long table, though he had to move his head back and forth to catch glimpses of his lover past the row of candelabras that extended down the centre. 

The mayor replied to Mr Strange’s speech with a very eloquent and lengthy one of his own, assuring the two magicians that they were welcome to stay as long as they liked in Venice and would undoubtedly be invited to dinners and other affairs at the finest houses in the city.  
Finally the two magicians stood by the front door to say good-bye as the guests departed. All were enthusiastic about the entertainment they had enjoyed, and several mentioned their intentions to hold soirees and banquets in honour of Mr Norrell and Mr Strange.

After the last guest had left, the house was still bustling and noisy, with the restaurant employees packing away the empty serving dishes and bottles and the Hurtfew servants clearing away the dishes and setting the dining room to rights. The magicians retreated to the library to discuss their success.

After starting a fire in the fireplace, Mr Strange sat beside Mr Norrell on the sopha. 

“Gilbert, I hope you were not terribly put out by having all these people about.”

“Oh, it was really not as bad as I expected. Having you here to deal with the guests made such an event much easier for me to cope with. In fact, at times I somewhat enjoyed myself. The food was quite nice, I thought.”

“I’m so glad you like Italian cooking, at least some of it. But what do you think about all these dinners and so on that we are likely to be invited to? I must confess, I have rather missed having the opportunity to mix with groups of agreeable people. Not that I am unhappy spending time with you here in the library, quite the contrary. Still, I find the prospect of going out occasionally an appealing one.”

“Of course, Jonathan. You are very sociable. I would not wish to hold you back from partaking of such opportunities. And if we can make the worthwhile people of Venice consider having us to their houses a desirable thing, that can only help our cause of promoting English magic abroad. After all, I expect that the newspapers will publish some accounts of our visit, and those will reach people beyond Venice. Between the Edinburgh publications and these, the story of our travels should spread.”

“Yes. From the conversations I overheard in the hallway just now, I believe that there will be much competition to secure us for social events. But Gilbert, do you really want to go to so many of them, possibly every night? We could decline some and make up some excuse. After all, I cannot go to these events and leave you behind.”

“Oh, no, Jonathan! I would not deprive you of entertainment you enjoy, and I well know the goodwill that flattering important people can generate.”

“But could you bear it if it turns out to be every evening? Even in London you usually did not have that full a social schedule.”

“True. I do find it rather a daunting prospect. But if I feel too overwhelmed, I could claim to have a headache and ask to sit in a quiet room by myself for a while. I could take along a book. It would also help me to put up with the boredom and the jostle of people if you could come and speak to me at intervals during the evening.”

“I shall certainly do so, my sweet Gilbert. I fear that such occasions will inevitably mean performing some magic. Our hosts will expect it. They want not just magicians but, more importantly for their own prestige, magic.”

“Well, if we must, we must.”

“I could do most of it.” Mr Strange hesitated. “You would not feel badly if I were to be more the centre of attention than you? Which I fear would tend to happen.”

“Of course it would happen. As I said, you are very socially adept, and I am not. I do not particularly want to be more adept, since it would require conversing with quite uninteresting people. So, if you mean, would I be jealous of you, no, not at all. In fact, I would enjoy seeing you admired and praised, and I would be proud of your success. After all, I am the one who has your love, and that is what matters to me.”

Mr Strange embraced him and pulled him hard against himself. “Oh, Gilbert, I do love you so much! I’ll tell you what, after each and every party you attend with me, I shall reward you in bed for your patience.”

“That would be wonderful—though I expect we would make love each night anyway, whether or not we went to a party.”

Mr Strange chuckled. “Probably so, but how very unromantic of you to point that out! Let us just call those post-party sessions ‘rewards’ anyway.”

“If you like. But not right away, as soon as we get home. In London, after a dinner or party I would just sit by the fire and read for a while. It allowed me to put the whole thing out of my mind and relax. Not that I would mind you sitting and reading with me, Jonathan. I would enjoy that very much.” 

Mr Strange smiled. “Of course, we could do that. It might put us in the mood for our intimacies. Now, I expect the servants have cleared up most of the remains of the luncheon. I shall go and tell them to take the rest of the afternoon off, to relax and perhaps to take naps. Late tonight I intend to act as guide and take you all wandering through Venice. As we will probably be here for some weeks, it would be well to acquaint the servants with the layout of the city. I am hoping that quite late in the evening, moving about surrounded by the Darkness, we might pass unnoticed by most. Some might look up and realise that the stars above them were not the usual ones. If people do become aware of us, perhaps the lack of any unfortunate results will afford further reassurance to the populace that having us here is perfectly safe.”

++++++++++++++++++++++

At about 10 pm all the inhabitants of Hurtfew Abbey assembled in the hallway, dressed in light cloaks and jackets appropriate to a late April night in a southern European city. Mr Norrell was the only exception, being well wrapped up against the cold and the damp night air. They gathered in front of Mr Strange, who addressed them.

“I cannot hope to show you everything in this beautiful city in one tour, especially at night. I hope, though, that I can give you an introduction to part of it and some advice about where you might do some shopping. Tomorrow Lucas will buy guidebooks and maps for all of you.

“Mr Norrell and I have agreed that you should all have free time to enjoy Venice. On those days when we have invitations to dinner and other evening social occasions, you shall all have the afternoon and evening off. Given the success of the luncheon today, to which you all contributed greatly, we suspect that we will receive such invitations most days. We are not yet sure how long we shall remain in Venice, but if there is time, there is also the possibility of some day trips on the mainland. Any questions?”

There were none, for all were eager to begin the tour, and the little group set out through the archway. The streets were not particularly well-lit, even in the ordinary darkness of a Venetian evening, but what lamps there were helped supplement their own lanterns. They turned right and headed toward the water.

They emerged from the Piazetta onto the Riva degli Schiavoni beside the edge of the mouth of the Grand Canal. Directly in front of them, in the middle of the Lagoon, was San Giorgio Maggiore, with its great tower. Mr Strange pointed to the right, toward the looming shape of the Basilica Santa Maria della Salute, with its circle of huge baroque scrolls around the dome, glowing dimly against the starry sky across the water. 

“There is a small bridge not far along canal, which would allow you easily to get to Santa Maria della Salute. You will need to take a gondola to reach San Giorgio Maggiore. Pick a clear day and climb the tower to see a magnificent view of the city.”

He led them back through the Piazza San Marco and through narrow, quiet, dark little streets, moving north. Frequently they came across canals crowded between old buildings and marveled at how narrow some of them were. Eventually they emerged at roughly the mid-point of the curving Grand Canal and admired the elaborate white marble Ponte de Rialto. Unlike most areas, this one was brightly lit up, since lively taverns and a few restaurants were still open, and there were people in the streets.

“This is a good area for shopping, as indeed is any area much frequented by tourists. Many of the shop owners speak at least a little English,” Mr Strange told the servants. They had had few expenses and had already accumulated a good deal of spending money from Mr Norrell’s generous wages. Hannah and Mrs Greeley were excited to shop for new clothes, and Mr Strange advised Lucas and Davey that if they were in need of new shoes or belts or other leather items, Italy was famous for such things.

After a little more wandering in nearly-deserted streets, during which Mr Strange pointed to some of the more interesting churches, the exhausted group returned to Hurtfew, talking excitedly about their first glimpse of the city. Once they entered the house, Mr Norrell went straight up to his bedroom, but Mr Strange detained the servants.

“I know you are all tired, but I would like to give you just a little more information on the logistics of getting around Venice. There are little stands along all the major canals where you can hire gondolas. There are thousands of them, so finding one is usually not difficult. 

“Lucas has expressed a desire to visit the island of Murano to see the glass-making establishments at work. Unfortunately, as a result of the recent wars, glass-making in Venice is not what it was when some of the descriptions he may have read were written. Nowadays rather than beautiful glass vases and so on, the factories primarily make beads. Lovely beads, to be sure, and I would imagine the ladies, who have mentioned that they would like to buy some glass, could find some very pretty necklaces for sale in the shops. But the process of making the glass is still interesting to watch, so I think you should go ahead with a visit to Murano.

“ Lucas would also like to see the island of Torcello, which is further from the city but in the same direction as Murano, so you could see that on the same trip. Torcello has a charming village with a little church that contains a splendid mosaic of the Virgin Mary and Child. I highly recommend that you all see it. You will need to go by water, and Mr Norrell says he will pay for the hire of a boat for the day. Assuming the weather allows, you should take a picnic lunch. And now, good night to you all, and thank you for your great help in today’s entertainment. Lucas, a brief word, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, sir?”

“When you go to Murano, I would appreciate your delivering a commission for a bespoke pair of goblets. Despite having such limited operations, some of the artisans in the factories naturally retain their old skills. I believe they are willing to take special orders of this sort. You should exercise some discretion in this matter, since such things may be illegal under the current tight restrictions.” He pulled an envelope out of a drawer in a chest in the hallway. “The name of the factory I have in mind and its address are on the envelope. It used to be a very prominent establishment and still keeps up a high standard. I’m sure you will have no trouble finding it. The name of the gentleman to speak to is also on the envelope. Please request a date upon which the pieces will be finished and at least an approximate price, so that I can send the money with you when you pick them up. I would go myself, but the pieces are a present for Mr Norrell—a surprise one, mind you—and of course I could not go to Murano without taking him with me.”

“I understand. I’m sure Mr Norrell will appreciate such a present.”

“Well, I hope he likes it. It’s not the sort of thing that he is ordinarily interested in.”

“I would wager that, coming from you, sir, whatever you might give him will please him.”

“I’m not so confident about that, Lucas. Mr Norrell is not always diplomatic in expressing his dislikes, as you well know. Still, I have high hopes for this present! Please take the trip to Murano soon, since I am not sure how long the factory will need to complete it nor how long we shall stay in Venice.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

After the nighttime tour, Lucas, Davey, Mrs Greeley and Hannah wanted to shop and see Venice on their own, since they naturally wanted to do so by daylight. On the day after the luncheon, they only had a short break to venture out of the Darkness, and they visited San Marco. Immediately, however, invitations to dinner and other evening entertainments for the two magicians began to arrive, and Mr Strange sat down with Lucas to work out a schedule and answer them. For some nights there were two or three invitations, and regrets had to be sent. Mr Strange, however, assured those who were turned down that there might be an opportunity later, as the pair would probably stay at least a few weeks in Venice. As promised, on the afternoons and evenings when the two magicians were dining elsewhere, the servants were free to do as they wished.

Mr Norrell, who was a cultured man, admitted that he would not mind leaving his library occasionally to see some of the famous artworks and buildings of the city. On the whole, it seemed wisest not to move the Darkness about the city during the day unless necessary, at least not early in their stay. During their entire stay in Venice, the mayor saw to it that the two magicians could have special access to important sites. Although the spectacular collection of paintings and sculptures of the Accademia Reale di Belle Arti was not scheduled to open to the public until August, Mr Strange and Mr Norrell were given a long tour of it one night, and Mr Strange took Lucas along with them. He recognized that Lucas had very good taste in art, and what he lacked in historical knowledge he was quickly making up for during their time in Italy. (1)

Similarly, the two magicians had privileged access to San Marco and the other major churches of the city in the evenings. Many of the parties and banquets they attended were held in palazzi which contained elaborate rooms decorated with frescos by the likes of Giandomenico Tiepolo. 

After one evening of such entertainment, the pair returned to Hurtfew and retired to their bedroom. As they prepared for bed, Mr Strange asked, “Are you enjoying Venice, Gilbert? It is a place I love, despite what happened to me toward the end of my previous stay. I had hoped to share that love with you. You had never traveled outside of England, and now you can go anywhere you wish easily, and there are so many marvels to be seen, here and in other places we may yet visit. Yet at times you seem to be a bit disapproving of what you see here.”

“Oh, please do not be concerned. It is indeed an extraordinarily beautiful place, and yes, I am enjoying it. I cannot help but be bothered, however, by the fact that everywhere we go, the buildings are so full of popery! I cannot fully overlook that.” 

Mr Strange laughed. “Well, after all, we are in a country where Catholic ceremonies and prayers are not illegal. Far from it. They are the norm for most of the citizens here. I’m afraid you will find the same thing is true if we visit places like France or Spain, which we surely will do. I hope at some point to have the opportunity to show you some of the places where I worked in the Peninsula. And I hear there is talk of a monument being erected on the battlefield of Waterloo, near Braine-l’Alleaud, which I visited during my second service for Wellington. I would like to see that once it is completed. That is in Belgium, of course, another Catholic country where there are many extraordinary things to see. Gilbert, the Church produced a great many beautiful things in the past, even in England. Perhaps you would enjoy the sights of Venice more if you simply reassure yourself that the popery you see about you will never take hold again in England.”

“That is true enough. Yes, I suppose I must accustom myself to seeing different ways of life. I am set in my ways, I realise.”

Mr Strange looked at him with a little smile. “Oh, a trifle, perhaps.”

“You are teasing me again,” Mr Norrell responded with an answering smile. He paused and stood still as Mr Strange buttoned his nightshirt for him, accompanied by a gentle kiss. “But I’m sure you can help me become more open to such experiences.”

(1) The Accademia, as its name implies, was a school for artists, and its collections had never been accessible to the public before. The museum opened to the public in August, 1817, and today it remains in its original building.


	2. The Right Decision

On the fourth day of their Venetian visit, Mr Strange and Mr Norrell were scheduled to attend a splendid dinner put on by an eminent member of the English community to honour them. The servants had departed for their afternoon off. As usual, the two magicians had stayed at home during the day. After lunch, they had sealed themselves into the library to enjoy some quiet time and intimate activities before the bustle of the evening. They had taken turns in giving each other lengthy, intense pleasure with their mouths in front of the fireplace in the library.

Shortly afterwards, Mr Strange was sitting drowsily at one end of the sopha, slumping down limply with his long, crossed legs stretched out before him. Mr Norrell, awakening from a brief nap, got up on his knees and leaned against the other magician, worshipping his body by slowly and softly kissing every exposed area he could reach—his neck, his jaw, his cheeks—and slipping his fingers inside the open neck of his shirt and gently stroking the warm, faintly moist skin of his upper chest. Every now and then he pulled back a few inches to look dotingly into Mr Strange’s face before resuming the kisses.

Mr Strange smiled, his eyes still closed, and shifted slightly, putting his arm over Mr Norrell’s shoulder to caress his back lazily. In the blissful aftermath of their lovemaking, he was quite content to be admired and petted by Mr Norrell. He knew the older man enjoyed these quiet caresses and would happily go on with them for almost any length of time.

Eventually Mr Norrell reached up with his other hand and ran it through Mr Strange’s curls, sighing happily, and murmured, “Jonathan.”

Mr Strange opened his eyes and turned his head to look into his lover’s eyes. “I did not really have any doubts before meeting Arabella, but even if I had, I certainly know now. Staying with you was absolutely the right decision. I think I am happier now than I have ever been in my life. And you?”

Mr Norrell looked at him thoughtfully. “I hope you will not take this the wrong way. I love you very dearly, Jonathan, and I feel such intense joy to be with you at last. And I would say yes, I am happier now than ever—were it not for the memory of the first few times I successfully performed magical spells.”

Mr Strange smiled and nodded. “No, I quite understand. Those spells must have made you immensely happy. I do not feel slighted. When was the first?”

“Oh, I remember it vividly. It was October 9, 1884. I was nineteen, and I had seriously been studying magic for nearly seven years at that point, though it had taken me a while to obtain enough books to really be able to compare spells and judge which ones were promising and which sounded ineffectual or dangerous.

“It was a simple enough spell, which is why I chose it, of course. I just needed to know whether I could really do magic at all. It involved making water move upward to create a shape. In fact, it was the origin of the far more complex spell I used to create the phantom ships during the war—my first success in that period. I cast the spell out at the river, very near to where you and I, on that wonderful, terrifying night, discovered that we were magically yoked together. I commanded the water to rise up and form a tree. It seemed appropriate, since trees are so closely associated with magical events.

“I had anticipated that I would be thrilled if it worked, but when it did, I was overcome with such a marvelous euphoria! To think that I could take something out of the pages of old, neglected books and make it do magic when such a thing had not been achieved in hundreds of years. It was quite a large and beautiful tree, too, hanging there, shimmering in the sunshine. I did not dare leave it there for long. My uncle was by that point too feeble to leave the house, so he would not have discovered it. Still, one of the grounds staff surely would have told him of it. It would have infuriated him that I was still pursuing what he thought a mad and useless project. So, after admiring it for an hour or so, I undid the magic and it fell with a splash back into the river. Though, of course, I knew then that I could do the same spell any time I wanted.

“The success of the spell confirmed that all my years of study, those past and those to come, were worthwhile. I do not think that I have ever quite lost that sense of joy when a spell works as I intended, but that perhaps was the pinnacle of my happiness. At least, up until the moment when you declared that you love me. I would hesitate to say which of those two events created the greater joy in me.”

Mr Strange nodded. “I wish I could have seen that tree that you conjured—and your joy at your success. My own first try at magic was delightful, but I had not worked for it, I had not dreamed of it, and I could not really appreciate what it would mean for me. After all, I cast that little discovery spell on the very day when Vinculus told me I was a magician and sold me the slip of paper it was written on. It was more a lark to me than anything important. I succeeded first and then learned the deeper satisfaction of magic later. But I am not disappointed that your first spell made you as happy as I do. After all, were it not for that moment, you might not have become a magician, and you and I would never have met.”

“True. I should add, though, that for an overall sense of joy rather than delight at a specific event, yes, I am happier here with you than I ever was before. And as I have said so often, you and magic are so wrapped up in each other that I can consider neither you nor it separately.” He paused, thoughtfully. “In fact, if I were ever to lose you, I wonder if I would want to continue with magic at all. I have accomplished enough to earn a place in the history of magic, and I have nothing to prove to myself or anyone else.”

“Well, you are unlikely to lose me, although I suppose we shall soon have to face up to the fact that some of the adventures we encounter could be quite dangerous. But you know I shall never leave you.”

Mr Norrell smiled in amusement.

Mr Strange nodded and chuckled. “Yes, I know I have no option, in that we are linked so strongly together by magic. But even if I were to discover the spell to break that bond, I should hesitate to do it. Well, I would probably break it, since our everyday life would be so much more convenient. You would not have to go to every party I attended, for one thing! But if I did break it, the bond of love would be even stronger than that of magic had been. I will be with you as long as I live. Which may be a very long time, according to you.”

Mr Norrell buried his face in the other magician’s rumpled shirt and murmured, “Then I will continue to practice magic for a very long time.”

They sat quietly in this position for a while. Finally Mr Norrell sat up. “I feel that we have accomplished a stage of our project. You have finally been able to meet with Mrs Strange, as you wished, and you have told her, in effect, that you are staying with me. I must say, she did not seem terribly upset, which should comfort you.”

“It does. It undoubtedly does. There were no tears, no recriminations. I think I was right in believing that her enchantment by the Fairy has killed what little sympathy she had for my magical endeavours. And I was never the easiest of men to live with, even in the happiest days of our marriage. I must admit that half the time I paid no attention to what she was saying to me. I had my nose, and my mind, in a book. Once my studies with you began in earnest, I would come home talking about nothing but you and how brilliant you were and the books that you had lent me—and of course, eventually about the first spells that you guided me through. I must have bored her to distraction.”

Mr Norrell cuddled closer. “I find you very easy to live with, Jonathan.”

Mr Strange laughed. “So you say now! We have been living together for barely two months. I wonder what you will say in two centuries!”

“I am sure that I will say exactly the same thing.”

“I hope so. It is as you wisely said to me on that dreadful afternoon that I announced I was no longer your pupil. It struck me as so true that I have never forgotten a word of it: ‘We are magicians. That is the beginning and end of me and the beginning and end of you. It is all that either of us cares about.’ My God, how right you were!”

Mr Norrell nodded and said, “Speaking of that, since we became trapped in the Darkness together, I have often wondered why Uskglass wanted English magic to be restored by two magicians. And why us? I believe that he did it so that one could favor the old magic and one the modern variety and somehow reconcile them. I feel that we have done so, though the truth of it will only emerge, I suspect, during our travels. I don’t know whether he intended that we fall in love. I should like to think we have some form of free will, despite our apparent destiny to fulfill prophecies made centuries ago.”

“Well, he seemingly left us in the Darkness and even made it a place where we wished to stay. But I suppose our falling in love would not automatically result from that.”

“Not for me, at any rate. I loved you long before any of this happened. But it’s true, that was partly because you were the only other real magician I had ever met. I have to admit, the fact that you are so very handsome and charming no doubt had something to do with it as well.”

They interrupted their conversation for a long but restrained kiss. Finally they drew apart, and Mr Norrell resumed. 

“At any rate, having accomplished your immediate goal, we face a far less precise goal. There is still so much that we need to know before setting off into the unknown. How are we to deal with foreign languages? How do we exchange English money for foreign, especially once we get into the more farflung countries that are not used to tourists?”

“I suspect the languages will present a greater problem than the money. Gold coins are probably welcomed almost anywhere, but speaking with local people will be a real challenge.”

Mr Norrell said, “I believe that we must divide our time here in Venice between sightseeing and further research. We have not even quite finished sorting the books. There are still quite a few on those shelves where we rather hastily stacked them to get them out of the way of the guests the other day.”

“I quite agree. If we spend every day in leisure activities, we will never be able to go anywhere. By the way, we have not decided our next destination. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well, a few weeks of research here in Venice will be useful, but our library is devoted to English magic. I wonder if it not time to start our inquiry as to whether there are other types of magic elsewhere and also whether we might be able to make use of them. One place we might consider is Germany. It is a place long associated with magic, and there are archives there that might be helpful. 

“Moreover, I would very much like to meet Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. They have been publishing some remarkable volumes of fairy tales and sagas over the past five years, and I have no doubt that they know more about German magic than anyone else. In fact, I have occasionally corresponded with them in recent years, with questions about some of the material in their books. They have been most cordial about responding. And it is not just German magic that they study. They are working on Scandinavian tales and magic as well. Their LIEDER DER ALTEN EDDA, published only two years ago, gives some very intriguing insights into Icelandic magic. I know they have other exciting projects in hand. Conversations with them could be most enlightening.” (1)

“That does sound highly promising. I gather you speak and read the language.”

“I speak it tolerably well and can read it with only occasional consultation of a dictionary.”

“Where do they live?”

“They are both librarians in Kassel, so they would probably be the most expert guides we could to the archival sources on magic. Moreover, Kassel was in an area conquered by Napoleon in the early years of the century, so I expect that the townsfolk would welcome us there much as they did here in Venice—with proper notification sent to the mayor and other officials. It is, however, a smaller and less celebrated town than Venice, so I would imagine our social obligations will be less pressing. Instead, we could invite the Misters Grimm to join us here in Hurtfew for some dinners and no doubt fascinating discussions. Imagine, those two here in my own library!”

“I have seldom heard you speak so highly of any other magician, living or dead, let alone two.”

“Well, they are of course theoretical magicians—as far as I know—but of a very high order. It is a pity that you do not read German. Your time in Kassel would not be wasted, however, since you could read some of the many books in our library that you had previously not had access to.”

“Yes, I would certainly not be idle,” said Mr Strange, glancing over at the bookshelf unit devoted to books Mr Norrell had so far set aside for him to read. Of its seven shelves, five were full and a sixth started. “Well, that decision seems to be made. Germany it is, then.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Eventually Mr Norrell turned to press his body against Mr Strange again. He moved down and nuzzled the edges of Mr Strange’s shirt aside and kissed and tongued his chest. He raised his head and looked pleadingly into Mr Strange’s face.

“Jonathan, I need you again. I want you inside me, please.”

Mr Strange softly rubbed two fingers over Mr Norrell’s lips. “You randy fellow! Nothing like a discussion of magic to get you going, is there? Well, if that’s what you want, then you must excite me again. Suck on them,” he whispered, his eyes growing intense. 

Mr Norrell looked at him in bafflement. “Why?”

Mr Strange smiled. “Don’t you ever become aroused by thinking of things I could be doing to you? or seeing something that reminds you of our lovemaking?”

Mr Norrell nodded. “Yes, but …”

Mr Strange held up his straight index finger, angled diagonally upward. He waggled his eyebrows.

Mr Norrell frowned, still puzzled, but in a moment his eyes widened in realisation. “Oh!”

He looked into Mr Strange’s amused but eager face and slowly began to lick the index and middle fingers up and down. He gazed with half-lidded eyes into Mr Strange’s face, not because Mr Strange had told him that he enjoyed this but because Mr Norrell enjoyed staring into Mr Strange’s face. Encouraged now by what he saw there, he kissed the fingers up and down and finally took them inside. He sucked them and swirled his tongue around them. Mr Strange’s fascinated gaze made him smile around the fingers, and he moaned with desire.

“My God, Gilbert,” he said hoarsely, “That sweet little tongue! Here, let me take off your breeches.”

Mr Norrell kicked off his shoes and swiveled to lean against the padded arm of the sopha. He raised his legs, and Mr Strange eagerly unbuttoned his placket and pulled the breeches off. He disposed of the undershorts as well. Stretching over Mr Norrell’s head, he managed to extract a small jar of salve from the drawer of a small table by the sopha. Mr Norrell unfastened his shirt and undershirt as quickly as he could, struggling briefly over the small buttons and spreading them wide so that his chest and stomach were bared.

Mr Strange knelt between his legs and gently inserted two fingers. He began to circle and thrust them, taking care not to reach the prostate so soon. He ran his hand over Mr Norrell’s chest, eliciting a little jerk of his body whenever he brushed across one of the taut nipples. Mr Norrell alternated between watching his hands and looking up with a blissful smile into his face.

“You know, this process will become a little easier as we do this over and over. And DON’T get any ideas! I think we’re doing it often enough already, given that you are inevitably slightly sore afterward.”

“I don’t mind your taking a while to prepare me. I’ve come to enjoy it.”

Mr Strange shifted to lean forward, moving Mr Norrell’s legs up so that his thighs rested on top of Mr Strange’s. He pushed the tip of his erection in and began to slide forward with short, gentle thrusts. Mr Norrell gasped as the tip slid over his pleasure-point.

Once Mr Strange was completely embedded, he began to rock his hips, continuing the gentle thrusting. Mr Norrell reached up and rubbed his nipples, making Mr Strange grimace with pleasure.

At last Mr Norrell put his legs loosely around Mr Strange’s hips and slid to prop himself slightly higher against the arm of the sopha so that he could see the purple-red member slipping in and out of him. 

“Pull it almost out,” Mr Norrell said, his voice strained with arousal. 

“You mean you want me to thrust harder? It’s too soon.”

“No, I want to watch it going inside me, slowly, the whole thing.”

Mr Strange smiled. So much for finding this sort of intimacy disgusting, he thought. He did as his lover asked, pulling out until he felt Mr Norrell’s hole tighten, catching on the ridge around the tip of his erection. Mr Strange groaned and pushed slowly back in until he was completely buried. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes. Again, please!” He again played with Mr Strange’s nipples, eliciting a soft whimpering. 

After this had continued for some time, Mr Strange found it increasingly difficult to refrain from thrusting harder. It was becoming almost unbearably tantalising, but he gritted his teeth and restrained himself. Mr Norrell was watching his cock emerge and disappear with a fascinated look on his face. He moaned with each slow thrust. Mr Strange glanced down and noted that his lover’s cock had drops of pre-come sliding slowly down the shaft.

At last Mr Norrell, too, was fighting the urge to reach climax. “More,” he whispered.

Sighing with relief, Mr Strange began to thrust faster and more shallowly, rubbing repeated over his prostate. Mr Norrell started keening with need.

Suddenly he reached for Mr Strange’s hand, taking care even in his arousal to grasp the clean one that had not been used to open him. As before he licked and kissed the first two fingers, finally taking them into his mouth and sucking. Gradually he began to suck harder and to bob his head very slightly as he did so. By the time their climaxes began to rise, he was sucking on the fingers in the same rhythm, moaning loudly.

Both were immensely aroused by this, Mr Strange rising slightly and thrusting harder than he usually would with Mr Norrell and pumping his erection in a tight fist. Mr Norrel grimaced, and his groan of relief became almost a roar. Mr Strange came immediately after him, continuing to thrust until the last fillip of pleasure drained from him.

They remained unmoving for a time, breathing hard and enjoying the soft tingle of their aftermath. 

At last Mr Strange leaned forward until his face was only inches from Mr Norrell’s. “Perfetto!” he said ecstatically and kissed the tip of his lover’s nose.

Mr Norrell was still dazed, but he looked up with half-open eyes and said, “I beg your pardon.”

Mr Strange sighed deeply with satisfaction. “Perfetto. Italian for ‘perfect.’ And this was. You came very hard, didn’t you? Look where some of this ended up.” He leaned further and licked a long streak of Mr Norrell’s seed from his cheek and temple.

“And you as well, I think. You came very hard.”

“Yes! I think it was the combination of having to go so slowly and your watching me so avidly—and the fingers!”

“Well, I wanted my mouth on you somehow, and I thought of that. It was really the only part of you I could reach.”

Mr Strange shook his head as his shrinking member slipped out and he began to clean them both. “I love the way you reason these things out even at the height of passion.”

They fastened their clothes and sat back down side by side.

Mr Strange said, “I don’t feel like I could move for hours, but we shall have to bathe before we set out for our dinner at—well, whoever-it-is’s house. Madame Vermicelli, or something like that. Now, don’t get any ideas about a third time!” he concluded with a grin.

“No, indeed. I feel quite satisfied. In fact, I believe we must count this as my ‘reward’ for tonight’s party. I doubt that even then I shall feel the need for a third time.” He paused. “Jonathan, I have been thinking about those two words that I asked you never to apply to me when you describe your feelings. You remember what they were, I trust.”

“How could I forget, since I say them silently to myself many times a day? What about them?”

“I have realised that in the time we have been together in the Darkness, you have often told me that you adore me, and I have told you the same. I suppose I must bow to logic and reluctantly admit that that makes me ‘adorable.’ So, I withdraw my request, or prohibition, if you will. You may say that word as you like. Note, however, that the other word is still inappropriate.”

Mr Strange sat up straighter and grinned delightedly. “Gilbert, you adorable man, thank you for your adorable permission to apply the word ‘adorable’ to you! I shall be sure to—ˮ

Mr Norrell winced. “Please, Jonathan, do not make me regret my decision! Though I must admit that your enthusiasm and your devotion and everything else about you are also … adorable.”

(1) By the time of this conversation, the Brothers Grimm had published most of their celebrated works dealing with fairy tales and ancient poems. Die beiden ältesten deutschen Gedichte aus dem achten Jahrhundert: Das Lied von Hildebrand und Hadubrand und das Weißenbrunner Gebet (1812), Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1812), Altdeutsche Wälder (3 volumes, 1813-1816), Der arme Heinrich von Hartmann von der Aue (1815), Lieder der alten Edda (1815), and the first of two volumes of Deutsche Sagen (1816). The second volume of the latter appeared in1818, during the lengthy period that the two magicians spent in Germany. Thus apart from their book on Irish fairy tales that was published in 1826, the library at Hurtfew contained all their books on and of magic. That fact is confirmed by contemporary newspaper accounts of the two magicians‘ interactions with the Brothers Grimm.


	3. A Faire Wood Flourishing

Early on the afternoon of the group’s sixth day in Venice, the two magicians entered the library with the intent of continuing their work sorting and restoring the books. Mr Norrell sat down at his desk to reattach the covers that had been ripped off a few of the volumes on the night of the disenchantment.

As Mr Strange walked past the table where he habitually worked, he noticed with puzzlement that its surface was clear of anything but a very ancient-looking book. He picked it up and peered at the leather of its cover, but any writing that may once have been there was thoroughly worn away. He opened the volume and read aloud the title: “A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING, by Peter Watershippe.” He turned to Mr Norrell, who looked up from his task of laying out the tools and materials for book-repair.

“I have heard of this tome, sir,” he said, for he sometimes still fell into the habit of calling Mr Norrell that when asking questions about books and magic. “When and where …? Oh, yes. That day when I declined to remain as your pupil. You asked me if I was familiar with it. Naturally I was not, because you had never allowed me to see it. I have to confess that I felt annoyed at the time, since that was all too typical in those days. No, no, you need not apologise again, Gilbert! That sort of thing is well behind us now. At any rate, it had something to do with the Raven King’s leaving England and your belief that he had taken all of English magic with him. I cannot say I paid much attention, since our dispute about approaches to magic had become so acrimonious by then.” 

Mr Norrell stood up and stretched his hand across the desk as Mr Strange proffered the volume to him.

“Yes, well, the point was that Watershippe’s book—this one, mind you, not the later A DEFENCE OF MY DEEDS WRITTEN WHILE WRONGLY IMPRISONED BY MY ENEMIES IN NEWARK CASTLE and CRIMES OF THE FALSE KING—gives the best description of the decline of English magic caused by the departure of the Raven King. Watershippe was a magician of only twenty-five years old when that happened, and he began writing the volume almost immediately. He not only lived through that momentous time, but he had his ambitions dashed by the subsequent decline. Despite his disappointments, his first book is reasonably objective, being both careful and thorough. His later books became far more bitter and eccentric. Even in my days of strong opposition to the Raven King, I found them utterly useless.

“A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING is not, however, simply a history of that decline. Watershippe also recorded with great precision all the spells he could find, spells of AUREATE English magic. Indeed, a great deal of our current understanding of such magic derives from this book.”

Mr Strange stared at him. “And did you keep it from me because you feared that I would try to cast some of these spells, spells which you considered unrespectable and even dangerous?”

“Not really. To be sure, I felt that it might foster your fascination with the Raven King, which at that time I was determined to discourage. In fact, however, I had not even brought A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING with me to London. I considered it inessential for my work there, since unfortunately all of the spells contained therein had lost their power when Uskglass and his fairy servants vanished. They no longer had any practical …ˮ

He stopped abruptly, gazing off into space abstractedly as he thought. His breathing became faster, and he had an intent frown on his face.

Mr Strange watched him, wondering what Mr Norrell could be thinking about that would excite him that much. Suddenly it dawned on him, and he blurted out, “But now John Uskglass has returned to England—ˮ

“And has restored English magic. That might well mean—ˮ 

“That the spells in this book would now be practicable again!” Mr Strange concluded triumphantly. 

Mr Norrell sat down abruptly in his chair, his eyes on the volume sitting on his desk. He was slightly pale. “To suddenly have access to such a large body of viable Aureate-era spells!” He shook his head in amazement and added, “Surely that is too good to be true.”

Mr Strange sat down on the edge of the desk near him. “I presume that such a group of spells, if we could cast them effectively, would be of incalculable use to us!”

“Yes, indeed! Many of these spells are enormously powerful and involve magic that could be applied in a huge range of circumstances. Why do you think I spent so much of my youth trying to contact the Raven King and learn his magic? But now, if these spells work once more, Watershippe would become one of the most crucial books of spells in the entire library. Second, I suppose, only to Sutton-Grove.”

“How many spells does it contain?”

“It has been very long since I read it, but I believe several dozens, perhaps over a hundred. Watershippe’s skill in writing out spells was such that his book became one of my models for composing my own, so in my early days I went back to it over and over. Once I was confident in my ability to write spells, I consulted it far less often, and on such occasions, of course, I only dipped into it.

“I do, however, recall a spell that could be very useful to us in our travels, if we could manage to make it work. It allows someone to go into a completely unfamiliar region where a different language is spoken and the costumes and so on are strange. The magic makes anyone upon whom the spell is cast appear to the local people to be one of them. Even more importantly, he would be able to understand their language, and conversely he, while speaking in English, would seem to them to be addressing them in their own language.” (1)

Mr Strange stared at him in awe. “But that would solve a problem—perhaps THE most important problem—that we have been pondering ever since we embarked upon this project of traveling in the Darkness!”

“Yes. We should start going through Watershippe immediately to try and find it and to note other promising spells we find.” 

Mr Strange nodded abstractedly. Finally he spoke. “Why do you suppose that the one book that might prove so vital to our project should suddenly be on that table instead of in the stacks of unsorted books, where presumably it had been before we went to lunch? I would swear that it was not on that table. I distinctly remember that there were several other books and the usual disorderly heaps of paper that I had amassed during the morning. Those must be …” He looked around the room before locating the books and notes, neatly arranged, on a nearby chair and resumed, “ … there. I specifically recall that you gave the table your usual little disapproving frown at my lack of organisation.”

Mr Norrell looked at him in puzzlement. “Yes, I do remember that. I certainly did not see Watershippe or I surely would have remarked on it. It is such an old and rare volume. Neither you nor I placed it there. It must either be one of the servants or …”

“Or magic—and not done by you or me.”

Mr Strange yanked on the bell-pull, and about a minute later Lucas came in. After brief questioning, he assured him that neither he nor any of the servants had been in the room for at least three hours. They had all been together, preparing lunch and planning their afternoon outing.

After he went out, the two magicians stared at each other, reluctant to voice what they were both thinking.

“A gesture of guidance from John Uskglass, dare we hope?” Mr Strange asked at last.

“I cannot think of any other explanation. None of the six of us could or would have done it. And even if one of us did move a book for some reason, it beggars belief that the volume plucked out at random from that unsorted set of stacks would be the one most likely to help us in our travels.”

“Do you think he was here?”

They looked around uneasily, though it was clear that they were alone in the library.

Mr Norrell replied, “Well, as I told you on the night of the disenchantment, he is undoubtedly capable of doing magic from a great distance, so there would be no reason for him to travel to us. After all, I was able to conjure the rain ships while in my Hannover-square house, and consider how much more powerful he would be.”

Mr Strange smiled nervously. “Does that mean he can see us here? That he watches us?”

“Well, he must be able to see us upon occasion. He could use a discovery spell, though undoubtedly stronger and more complex than the simple ones we cast. How else could he find and move one book out of the thousands in this room? But I doubt that he watches us for any length of time. He must have many other concerns as or more important than us.”

Mr Strange glanced over at the sopha. “Good Lord, I hope he doesn’t watch us when we’re—ˮ

“Please, Jonathan, do not even mention that. Thinking about it might put quite a damper on our intimate activities.”

“Well, it is rather hard not to think about it, but let us just assume that such activities are not of much interest to him.”

“Agreed. Now, we should turn our immediate attention to testing one of the spells to see if they have indeed become practicable. The one about languages and appearances is the most pertinent. Let me look through quickly and see if I can find it.”

After about fifteen minutes of searching, Mr Norrell located the spell. 

“As I would expect, it is admirably written, so we need change very little, apart from specifying that it is only the language that we wish to change, while retaining our own appearances.” He pointed to a passage in the spell, and Mr Strange leaned over to read it. “Simply eliminating that and … that should work. So, shall we put it to the trial immediately? I fear I could not concentrate on anything else until we know.”

Mr Strange replied, “Nor could I. Let’s see, how should we go about it? If we cast the spell over both of us, we might possibly choose someone who happens to speak English. What would make sense would be for one to cast the spell on himself. That way, the one without the spell would be sure whether the person chosen for our test is speaking English or Italian.”

“Yes, that seems logical. I suppose we could just go out and buy something in a shop.”

“During the daylight?”

Mr Norrell hesitated. “Well, we have been here nearly a week, surely long enough that people know about us and presumably have a favorable opinion of us. We have always intended eventually to move the Darkness during the daytime, so why not now?”

“Yes, we might as well start accustoming people to seeing it moving about. We need not go far, after all.”

“Would you care to be the person who casts the spell upon himself, Jonathan?

“If you don’t mind, I would suggest that you be the one to do so.”

Mr Norrell seemed to shrink into himself a bit, and he began to wring his hands, looking uncertainly at Mr Strange.

Mr Strange smiled sympathetically but said, “Gilbert, I think you must become accustomed to doing more things for yourself. If we are going to travel about, meeting many new people and perhaps confronting dangers, you should be prepared to act more assertively. Really, buying something in a shop is not at all intimidating.”

“Yes, I know you are right. I should make the effort to undertake such interactions. It’s just that … well, I have almost never bought anything in a shop, except books, of course. But Childermass handled most of that in recent decades, or my regular dealers would send me offers by mail.”

“Well, most shop owners are eager to please you and make a sale. The ones here in Venice are very used to being visited by people from abroad, especially Englishmen, and most of them are very cordial. I have an idea. Let us make this first attempt a pleasant one for you. Would you like us to choose a sweet-shop for the experiment?”

Mr Norrell perked up at that idea, so they decided to visit a confectionary baked-goods shop that Mr Strange had favoured early in the days of his stay in Venice. They set out to walk there. As they went through the archway, the Darkness slowly followed them, eventually leaving Hurtfew brightly lit but invisible behind it.

++++++++++++++

Although by this point Venetians were used to seeing the Pillar of Darkness in the Piazza San Marco, few had noticed it moving about at night and none had seen it move during the daytime. Some comment and nervousness resulted among the populace, but no one panicked. Most people who found themselves within the Darkness were startled and paused to look around and comment on the sudden gloom but ultimately went on about their business.

The shop they were bound for had a sign above the door, announcing “V. Spinetti” in large golden letters on a shiny black background. Pausing before it, the magicians surveyed the enticing array of sweets laid out in the window. Mr Strange pointed to a platter of what looked like small pieces of rather unrealistic artificial fruit.

“Have you ever tried marzipan, Gilbert?”

“No, never. What is it?”

“Well, I believe it’s mainly almond meal and sugar or honey. I’m quite fond of it. Venetians claim that it was invented here, though I have heard other claims for that distinction. I’m sure that Venetian marzipan is as delicious as any you could find. Every shop has its own receipt. Shall we go in? The proprietor would most likely give you a sample, especially if he realises who you are.”

Mr Norrell took a deep breath and entered the small shop, followed by Mr Strange. Mr Norrell’s nervousness turned to delight as he surveyed the shelves of enticing sweets and baked goods. They were not clearly visible, since the lights of the shop were not on, and the Darkness surrounded the building. The smell, however, tickled at their noses.

At their entrance, a small bell had rung above the door, and a pudgy, bald middle-aged man soon appeared from the back of the shop. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He glanced out the window. "Well, I say ‘afternoon,’ but evening seems to have arrived already. One moment, if you please.” 

Mr Norrell understood this perfectly well. In fact, the man did not even seem to have an Italian accent. He glanced down at Mr Strange’s fist, which hung by his side. Mr Strange uncurled two fingers, the signal that what he was hearing from the man’s lips was Italian. They looked at each other with little smiles but suppressed their delight.

After the propietor had lit some candles, he looked at his customers closely. “You must be the famous English magicians.”

Mr Strange made a slight bow and said, “Si, Signore Spinetti. Mr Strange e Mr Norrell.” He placed one hand on his own chest and indicated his companion.

“Welcome! It’s a great honour to have you choose my humble shop, gentlemen. How may I help you?”

Mr Norrell said, “Mr Strange has recommended that I purchase some marzipan, which I have never tasted. Would you mind providing me with a small portion to try?”

“Not at all, not at all. Here is a piece, Mr Norrell. And one for you, Mr Strange. May I ask, sir … I seem to remember your face.”

Mr Strange nodded and replied in Italian, “You are correct. I lived in Venice for a time and visited you occasionally. Thank you.” He accepted the other sample of marzipan. 

“Happy to oblige you, sir,” the shop owner replied, or so it sounded to Mr Norrell, who had suddenly assumed a delighted expression as he chewed and swallowed the marzipan.

“Oh, yes, we must have some of this!” he said.

“How much would you like, sir? We have three sizes of boxes, but I can provide a larger container if you like,” he said hopefully, pointing to three elegant boxes displayed on a shelf above his head.

Mr Norrell looked at the boxes, wondering if it would seem too greedy to ask for the large one. Mr Strange was already in the habit of occasionally teasing him about his sweet tooth. He looked at the other magician and asked, “You would eat some, too, would you not, Jonathan? You said that you are fond of it.”

“Si, certo,” Mr Strange replied, nodding. He assumed that Mr Norrell could fathom his meaning.

The shop owner looked back and forth between them with a smile, anticipating which box Mr Norrell would choose.

“Well, then, the large one, and—oh, what are those?” he said, pointing, his eyes widening.

“That is strong bread, sir.”

“Strong? Is it hard to chew,” Mr Norrell asked with a slight worried frown.

“No, it’s a sweet bread, but one of the ingredients is pepper.” (2)

“Oh, no, I don’t think I would enjoy that. But what about those?”

“This type of sweet is called marron glace, since the French invented them—so they say. Nonetheless, they are very popular in Italy. Inside is a chestnut, sir. Ordinarily it is dipped in syrup, but we coat ours with caramel.”

“Caramel?” Mr Norrell asked in surprise—and delight.

“Yes, please try one.”

Mr Spinetti carefully plucked two of the marrons from their platter and handed one to each of the magicians. 

Mr Strange bit off part of it and savoured both it and the sight of Mr Norrell eating his sample and looking as though he had just succeeded at casting a highly challenging spell. 

Mr Strange leaned over said softly and quite unnecessarily to the shop owner, “Mr Norrell is hugely fond of sweets.”

Mr Norrell had no idea what Mr Strange had said. “Did you tell him I want a box of these?” he asked.

“No, I left that choice to your conscience.”

Mr Norrell was well aware that Mr Strange has a most teasing smile on his face, but by this point he had lost any sense of embarrassment and asked for the large box. And besides, Mr Strange had recommended this shop in the first place and thus led him into temptation. 

As the shop owner made up the two boxes, Mr Strange said in Italian to him, “I fear I must persuade Mr Norrell to leave now, but I suspect we will be back.”

Mr Norrell, however, had discovered a basket of some sort of wonderful-smelling biscuits. “And these?” he asked.

“A very good choice, sir,” the proprietor said encouragingly. “Ricciarelli, crisp almond cookies with powered sugar on top.” He picked one up, breaking it in two and handing half to each of them.

“Delicious!” Mr Norrell said. 

Mr Strange had to admit, “They are indeed.” He leaned over and whispered into Mr Norrell’s ear, “Gilbert, I think that’s enough for now. Remember, we have sweets at home already, and we can always come back.”

Mr Norrell nodded somewhat reluctantly and paid for the three large boxes. As Mr Spinetti gave him his change, he remarked, “I must compliment you on your excellent Italian, sir. You have not the slightest accent. And you Mr Strange, speak it quite well.”

After a polite exchange of thanks and good wishes, the two magicians left the shop. 

As they walked toward the Piazza San Marco, Mr Norrell said, “How extraordinary, the spell worked! What a deal of trouble this will save us!”

“Yes, I expect it will be one of the most important spells we shall use as we travel to more and more exotic places. I take it that you did not hear Mr Spinetti speaking Italian to me.”

“No, only you to him. You presumably heard him speaking Italian to me. He complimented me on not having an accent, and to me, he seemed to be speaking as a native Englishman would. So the spell makes the translation perfect! It was quite a fascinating conversation. Perhaps now we should try it with the roles reversed, you with the spell on and me without. A second, confirming test is always a good idea.”

Mr Strange looked into his face with a grin. “Gilbert, is this just an excuse to go back to Mr Spinetti’s shop?”

Mr Norrell shook his head with a chuckle and then said earnestly, “But as to the spell, the fact that it works suggests that all, or at least most, of the spells recorded in A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING would also now be practicable. So much magic available to us that we never had before! I think we should plan to stay here in Venice for at least a few weeks so that we can both study it closely. We should identify the spells most likely to be useful in the sorts of situation we anticipate finding ourselves in, taking notes and discussing them, of course. We could try a few of those spells in a small way, as with this one, to make sure that the whole set has come back to life, as it were, with the Raven King’s return.” The prospect of so much new, powerful magic available to them and of studying and testing the spells made him nearly giddy with delight.

Mr Strange smiled at his enthusiasm and replied, “I completely agree. Venice is a place where I would love to stay for a time, now that I am in such wonderful circumstances. And I must say, I have been rather nervous about setting out into the unknown on our travels. Knowing we have this arsenal of powerful spells at hand would make me considerably more confident, I have no doubt. But we need to know what they are and how they can help us.”

Mr Norrell nodded. “Once we finally decide upon a departure date, I can write and notify the Grimm brothers.” They walked for a while in silence before he resumed, “In the shop, you said that we had sweets at home. I believe that is the first time that you have called Hurtfew ‘home.’ I hope that is how you have thought of it for many weeks now, but it is touching to hear you say it.”

“The first time? Perhaps it is. For a while I continued to think of it as your home, in which I was a guest. Still, rather soon I started to consider it our home. Our magical home. Speaking of home, we can offer to cast the spell on the servants. I know they have struggled a bit in dealing with shopkeepers and gondola proprietors and so on, though they have managed in most cases reasonably well. Perhaps they are the ones who should test the spell further for us. Indeed, we could try the entirety of the spell on them, including the change of appearance. We could turn Lucas into a gondolier!”

+++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The next day both magicians longed to get their hands on A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING, but Mr Norrell deferred to Mr Strange, since he had himself a tolerable knowledge of the book’s contents. Going back to his repair work, he glanced up from time to time. Mr Strange was reading with an eager, often astounded look on his face and filling sheet after sheet of paper with notes.

Mr Norrell smiled approvingly and said, “I trust you are numbering those sheets as you go, Jonathan. Otherwise it may be difficult to reconstruct their order.”

Mr Strange turned with a startled look and said, “Oh, yes, yes, I have been numbering them.” He immediately returned to his work, his back completely blocking what he was doing from Mr Norrell’s view. Mr Norrell sighed and went back to his work.

In the afternoon, Mr Strange reluctantly turned over his notes and the book to Mr Norrell, having promised him a turn. Mr Norrell read over the notes, consulting the relevant pages in the book. Indeed, following the references to the book was the only way to determine the order of the notes’ pages. The numbers in the upper corner of the sheets appeared to be nearly random. As teatime approached, he finished the last page and Mr Strange came to hover over him.

Mr Norrell smiled up at him. “Not surprisingly, very creditable and useful notes, Jonathan. I would say there are a few ideas here that are too ambitious for us to try until we have much more experience with magic during our travels. Still, such ambition and imagination are among the qualities that you bring to our partnership.”

Mr Strange nodded. “It is utterly amazing what secrets and possibilities are contained in that book! Our main problem may be that you will have to restrain me from trying everything at once. We must be systematic and careful, and those are among the qualities YOU bring to our partnership.”

He was about to lean over and kiss Mr Norrell when they heard a knock and a soft clinking of porcelain and silver. Mr Strange straightened up quickly and called out, “Come in!” 

Hannah entered with the tea tray and put it on a low table with two chairs opposite it. Mr Norrell carefully placed the aged leather volume and the notes back on the central table and joined Mr Strange. Having poured for them, Hannah departed. 

Mr Strange watched with a fond smile as Mr Norrell delightedly sorted through the elaborate confectionary, including some of the marrons, ricciarelli and marzipan, arrayed on a tiered porcelain dish. The two filled their plates, Mr Strange picking some small sandwiches, and sat back to sip their tea. Mr Norrell took off his glasses, which he needed only for close-up activities like reading and choosing sweets.

After a brief interval of munching and sipping, Mr Norrell remarked, “It occurred to me last night that, although you cannot read the books of the Grimm brothers, you could cast the language spell on yourself and at least be able to participate in our discussions.”

“That’s true. I shall be delighted to learn about their work.” He glanced over at the shelf where Mr Norrell kept his small collection of books on German magic, consisting mostly of the books of the Grimm brothers. “It is a pity that the language spell does not apply to written texts.” He suddenly frowned. “But do we know that it doesn’t?”

“Alas, it does not. Despite my being able to understand Mr Spinetti perfectly yesterday, all the signs and labels in his shop remained in Italian. That’s why I had to ask what the various items were.” He thought for a short time before resuming. “I doubt that the language spell could be altered to be usable on texts. The difference is simply too great. Still, there might be something of the sort in Watershippe. And possibly, taking the language spell as a model, we could work out a new one on our own.”

By this time the two had finished their tea, and Mr Strange reached under the table and brought forth a large, elaborately wrapped present topped with a bow.

“This is for you, Gilbert. Well, for both of us, really, but at any rate, a present to celebrate our partnership and our love—and our first new country visited together.”

Mr Norrell sat up straighter and pushed aside his plate and cup. He reached across to take the package, staring at it in surprise.

“Be careful! It is fragile and heavier than it looks.”

Mr Norrell gingerly took it and placed it on the table. He removed the paper and bow and opened the lid. His mouth dropped slightly open, and he put on his glasses. He lifted one of two large goblets lying nested in velvet-lined recesses and held it up to the candelabra on the side table to his left, examining the artfully executed image on the surface of the opaque white glass. Mr Strange stretched across the table to remove the second, identical goblet from the box and looked closely at it. In the center was John Uskglass, seated upon a slightly elevated throne with a raven hovering over his head. Upon his right stood Mr Norrell and upon his left Mr Strange. The Raven King had his arms stretched out to each side so that his hands rested on their shoulders. Across the top ran a slender banner bearing the words, “Two magicians shall appear in England.”

Mr Norrell looked across at his lover, his eyes shining as brightly as the surface of the glass, which sparkled in the candlelight. “Oh, Jonathan! It’s beautiful, and so skilfully made. Thank you! Where in the world could you have obtained such things?”

Mr Strange laughed. “We are sitting in perhaps the world’s greatest centre for highly skilled and artistic glassmaking, Gilbert!”

“We are? Venice?” 

“Well, at least it was until the recent takeover by the Austrians. But I managed to find one of the artisans from the period when the making of glass was at its height. That opaque white glass is called ‘lattimo,’ or milk glass. It is a technique that originated in Venice back in the 16th Century and still used in Murano. I thought it would set off the figure of the Raven King well.” (3)

“It does indeed. The likenesses of you and me are quite remarkable, considering how they were created and how small they are.”

“Yes, Lucas delivered my commission a few days ago. I provided the artisans with a sketch of what I had in mind—not a very skilful one, but enough to show the layout of the figures. As models, I loaned them a copy of the engraving of Sir Thomas’s portrait and also—ˮ

“Oh, has Mr Lawrence been knighted?”

“Yes, about two years ago. Probably largely as a result of his painting of us. Yes, Gilbert, I am teasing. I realise that he often portrays members of the royal family. At any rate, I also provided the artisans with a print of the Raven King that I had bought in a bookshop long ago. I did not want to disturb the beautiful wrapping, so this is the first time I have seen them. I’m very pleased with the results.”

As Mr Strange spoke, Mr Norrell ran his fingers over the three figures in the images, slightly raised from the surface of the goblet. Mr Strange was relieved and moved by the other magician’s genuine delight in his gift.

Mr Norrell looked up. “They are so precious and irreplaceable that I suppose we will ordinarily only display rather than use them.” 

Mr Strange said thoughtfully, “Perhaps we could use them for magic spells. If a spell called for a cup or goblet, these might be suitable. I wonder if having an image of the Raven King on them would make the spell more powerful. After all, we are, in a sense, Magicians in Ordinary to the Raven King. Or in Extraordinary, one might say!

“Gilbert, I ordered these goblets near the beginning of our stay, well before we found A FAIRE WOOD WITHERING and realised how important it would be to us. Yet now, this image seems all the more appropriate. I do not know how much guidance John Uskglass will give us. Probably at most an occasional nudge like this one. Yet it is most encouraging to know, or at least hope, that we are not going out into the world entirely alone.”

 

(1) The spell, which Mr Strange and Mr Norrell later employed repeatedly to such spectacular effect, was very widely used in the golden age of English magic. Susanna Clarke’s history, JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL (2004), mentions it as having been cast by the Gentleman with the thistledown hair when he took Stephen Black to an unidentified country in Northern Africa (Chapter 34).

(2) Panforte.

(3) After the revival of Murano’s production of art glass began at the end of the 19th Century, the making of lattimo began again and continues to this day.


End file.
